


Spend Too Long in the Dark

by ant5b



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: AU post-The Depths of Cousin Fethry, Anxiety Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 05:30:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18685099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ant5b/pseuds/ant5b
Summary: Fethry’s hit rock bottom.Literally.





	Spend Too Long in the Dark

Fethry hits rock bottom.

Literally. 

He wakes up confused, but most of all he wakes up in pain. His ears ring and his head pounds like it’s being split open by a jackhammer, while the rest of him aches and radiates agony. He’s cold, the kind of cold that seeps into the marrow of his bones and freezes, and he’s lying on something hard. Sprawled might be a more apt phrase, considering the twinging array of his limbs each going in almost completely different directions. 

Fethry opens his eyes, even as the action worsens his throbbing headache. His ears start ringing in earnest. All he sees is darkness, and his vision swims. Nausea swells inside him like it did when he would go fishing on Uncle Quackmore’s boat as a boy, and he nearly doubles over from the force of the bile rising in the back of his throat/ his gorge rising. 

But he takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with cool, stale air, expels it, and takes another breath, until the nausea has abated enough for him to ignore it. He sat up too fast, and his entire right side feels as though it had the entirety of the Money Bin dropped on it. With slow, careful movements, Fethry draws his gangly limbs in closer to his body, as a tremble starts in his fingers and works its way up his arms. 

He scoots back until he hits a wall, and he tries opening his eyes again. 

The actions leaves him awash with pain once more, but the nausea doesn’t return. 

Fethry can see very little in the gloom. There are only two sources of light, and neither of them is the portable lantern lying in pieces by his left foot. The first is a meter long device in the shape of a nut and bolt wedged into a crevice in the stone above and beside him. There’s a small screen and a number of colorful buttons, the former of which is dark and the latter of which blink wildly, alternating through the rainbow. The device emits a high pitched whine that barely makes it through the cotton in between his ears. 

The second source of illumination is the circle of light dozens of feet up, at the mouth of the tunnel Fethry’s trapped at the bottom of. 

The tunnel is almost well-like, the stone walls cut perfectly smooth around him. Some fifteen feet up, he makes out the end of a dangling rope. 

Pain spikes through his temples, and Fethry hunches over, hands cradling his head. He feels something wet and warm smear against the palm of his right hand, but he ignores it in favor of the realization that he can hear again. 

The shrill whine of the device grows in pitch, but something else breaks through the dull ringing in the back of his head. The sound flickers in and out like a poor radio signal, and he only catches every third word. But it’s enough, because he recognizes the voice. 

_ “—hear me? I can’t...too dangerous without...I need you to...right here…” _

Fenton. 

Laboriously, Fethry lifts his head. He looks around the chasm again, and there he spots it, nearly hidden against the far wall. A radio in essence, portable transceivers that operate on a single frequency, and function so long as they are within three miles of each other no matter the obstructions in between. It’s exceedingly complicated tech, and the first official project Fethry had ever worked on with Gyro and Fenton. Fenton kept calling them walkie-talkies, because it made Gyro nearly apoplectic with rage every time. 

Mustering a reserve of strength he doesn’t have, Fethry drags himself to the other end of the cave. It takes him less than three minutes, but it may as well be an hour for how much of Fenton’s desperate rambling he endures. His hearing continues to improve as he makes the arduous journey to the opposite wall. 

“ _ Fethry, it’s Fenton. I really need you to answer, buddy. It’s been six minutes since you last checked in, five since the earthquake. If you don’t answer in the next thirty seconds I’m going to have to head down in the Gizmosuit and I don’t know if the earthquake damaged the structural integrity of the tunnel. If it did, taking the suit down might makes things worse. So, please, Fethry, if you’re conscious, if you’re okay, please let me know—” _

He reaches the radio, but Fethry still feels lost in his own head, and his body feels too tight and achy, but he can’t bear to continue listening to the fragile tautness of Fenton’s voice, the familiar rapid pace make nearly unintelligible with worry. 

But what to say? Fethry doesn’t know where he is, only that he’s cold and hurt and Fenton is somewhere nearby, hopefully safe. He doesn’t  _ remember  _ how he got here. He should remember. 

He’s waited too long. Fenton’s voice comes again, only this time he sounds  _ wretched _ . Even if Fethry never hears Fenton speak this way again, the sound of it will never leave him. 

_ “Fethry, I’m here. I need to know you’re okay. Yell, scream, cry, please just say something, anything,”  _ and he sounds as broken as Fethry feels. 

Fethry thumbs down on the PTT button. “H-hey, Fentonino.”

The radio is silent for a long, excruciating moment. Fethry grips the plastic so tightly it creaks. 

Finally, the radio crackles and Fenton’s tinny voice comes through, sounding very small.  _ “Fethry?” _

Fethry laughs wetly, his chest constricting and eyes burning with tears. “The one and only. You okay, partner?”

There’s a burst of static on the radio that might be Fenton snorting or might be him dropping the radio. _ “Am I—Fethry, what happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” _

Fethry tamps down on a slightly hysterical giggle that’ll do the opposite of reassure Fenton. “Well the view isn’t so great from down here. And I think I might’ve bumped my head a little.”

A long sigh at the other end of the line, a habit that Fenton knows he picked up from Gyro despite his vehement protests to the contrary. “In Fethry Speak that could mean anything from a bruise to a cracked skull.” His voice gentles, turns more serious. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I..” Fethry hesitates. “I don’t really remember. I was climbing down the rope and I...fell?”

_ “Mr. McDuck sent us to check on the seismic sensor cause Gyro thought it might be out of alignment,”  _ Fenton explains.  _ “You climbed down a couple feet to see if you could spot it when there was a small earthquake.” _

Fethry huffed a laugh, leaning back against the wall of the tunnel with a wince at the pressure against his sore back. “That’s ironic.”

Fenton’s responding chuckle is weak, and not just because it comes over the damaged radio. _ “Near as I can figure, the earthquake made you lose your grip. And you...you fell.” _

That makes sense, Fethry thinks, nodding. It makes sense, but his stomach has begun tying itself in knots because it makes sense but it doesn’t feel right. There’s something he’s missing, something important. 

_ “Fethry? Buddy?”  _ Fenton is saying.  _ “I’m coming down to get you now, okay? Just stay put, and I’ll be down—” _

“It was my fault,” Fethry says, looking up at the circle of light some innumerable distance above him. 

_ “What?” _

But Fethry remembers, with startling clarity. The tunnel had been dark and small and he had been alone. It’s been six months since he said his final goodbyes to the Sublab of the Future, but it may as well have been six seconds for all that he felt like he right back there, 4000 meters of water pressing in on him from all sides. He’d already been hyperventilating when the earthquake hit, and in his panic his first thought had been that the sublab was falling to pieces around him, and that he would drown. 

“I...panicked.” His words are insufficient in describing the all encompassing terror that descended on him, the certainty that he was about to die choking him and loosening his grip. Shame strangles him now, but he forces the words out. “The-the dark. In the tunnel. I panicked because I thought I was back...back in…”  

_ “You thought you were back in the sublab,” _ Fenton says, when Fethry cannot. 

Fethry grits his teeth, fighting the burn of tears on the back of his eyes. “I know it’s stupid. That I’m being stupid. I’m sorry for causing so much trouble _ —” _

He falls silent as a whirring sound reaches his ears. Looking up, he sees a dark shape blot out the light from the entrance to the tunnel, and the whirring grows louder as the shape draws nearer. He sees a smear of purple light glowing from behind a visor and has to resist the urge to burst into tears. 

Fenton lands in front of him, wearing the helmet and one of the arms of the Gizmosuit. The propeller retracts into the helmet and he flips the visor up as he kneels down, and Fethry is pulled into the gentlest hug he can remember receiving. The armor around Fenton’s left forearm is bulky, and should make the embrace awkward, but Fethry has never felt more secure. 

Tentatively, he wraps his arms around Fenton’s waist, and buries his face against the juncture between Fenton’s neck and shoulder. 

Fenton’s free hand sweeps up his back in gentle, even strokes. “You’re not stupid,” he murmurs, “and it’s okay to be afraid. If I’d known, I’d be the one climbing into the tunnel. You would’ve stayed on top and kept track of the readings. You’d be bored out of your mind.”

Fethry muffles what might’ve been a laugh,and was more likely a sob, against Fenton’s neck. “I don’t know, boredom sounds pretty right about now. But...but I don’t like the idea of you being trapped down here instead of me. If it had to be one of us I’m...I’m glad it’s me.”

Fenton starts to pull away, and Fethry is certain he’s said something wrong, that he’s ruined this soft tentative thing between them. But then Fenton is kissing him, so maybe he didn’t ruin anything after all. 

He’s gentle in a way that makes Fethry want to cry anew, and not just because his body hasn’t stopped aching. Fenton brushes his fingers along Fethry’s cheek, cradles his face with his palm, and brings them close. Fethry’s jaw aches from his fifteen foot tumble onto stone, but even that pain is distant as Fenton turns his head just so, deepening the kiss. 

“I guess we’re just both self-sacrificing idiots,” Fenton whispers, mere centimeters from Fethry’s beak. 

“Speak for yourself,” Fethry replies, with a huff laughter that makes his ribs twinge. “Only one of us puts on a robot suit and stops runaway trains, and it isn’t me.”

Fenton’s smile is the brightest thing in the tunnel. “ Touché,” he replies. When he stands back up, he pulls Fethry to his feet alongside him. “But, uh, what do you say we get outta here now?”

“Yes, please,” Fethry answers, but it ends on a squeak as Fenton scoops him up in a bridal carry, the gauntlet of the Gizmosuit under his legs. 

“Are you alright?” Fenton asks, as the propeller engages and they fly out of the tunnel. 

Fethry wraps his arms around the back of Fenton’s neck, and closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the ground fall further and further away. Fenton’s hand is warm on his back, and he focuses on that comforting pressure. 

“I am now,” Fethry replies. 

 


End file.
